


All The Wednesdays That Never Were

by Feelforfaith



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelforfaith/pseuds/Feelforfaith
Summary: "We've both made our choices," he will say at some point in the conversation, interrupting Dom, because sometimes that is all he has left and saying it out loud makes it more real. The edge of regret in his voice will carry all the way across two oceans, but he will hope that by the time it gets to Hawaii, it will be only an acceptably dulled memory of the roads traveled together.





	All The Wednesdays That Never Were

The letter will arrive on a Wednesday. 

Billy will find it when he comes home from the train station: a cream-white envelope with a delicate pattern of embossed roses. He will curl his mouth at the entwined hearts on the stamp, think of a snarky comment, but there will be no-one there to laugh at it. He will drop the letter unopened onto the kitchen table and take Griffin for a walk in the rain. 

Late at night, he will sit in his favorite leather chair that has seen better days and tear the envelope open. His hand will not shake. He will drink whiskey straight from the bottle, and he will like the way it will burn his throat. He will smoke Dunhills even though he doesn't like them, but they will make him feel nonchalant and feeling nonchalant will sound really good right then. 

That night he will dream about hills that aren't Scottish, and about a beach where the sand is warm even though it's January, about feeling at home in a place that couldn't possibly be further away from home. 

And he will dream about Dom, too, and white sheets, and it will be real, even though it will be a dream. 

His throat will feel dry and scratchy in the morning, and yet again he will swear off cigarettes and decide to stick to whiskey next time. It will take him a few moments to realize that there might not be a next time. 

He will slip the torn envelope underneath the stack of books on the dresser, the "to read someday" pile he never intends to read. 

He will call Dom on Saturday morning—which will be still Friday night in Hawaii—because mornings are easier, are still hours away from the middle of the night waking up and tossing in bed, and he will get Dom's answering machine. He will listen to Dom's voice sounding like dirty talk even when he says, "Hi, it's Dom. I'm out surfing, so leave a message," and he won't leave a message. 

When he calls again, it will be three in the morning on Monday. This time, Dom will answer. 

"I got the invitation," Billy will say. He will close his eyes, and he will try to remember what it feels like to have Dom's skin under his fingertips. He will want a cigarette, badly. 

"We've both made our choices," he will say at some point in the conversation, interrupting Dom, because sometimes that is all he has left and saying it out loud makes it more real. The edge of regret in his voice will carry all the way across two oceans, but he will hope that by the time it gets to Hawaii, it will be only an acceptably dulled memory of the roads traveled together. 

"I want you there, standing next to me," Dom will say, and his voice will be hot and melting, and it will make Billy remember white sheets drowned in the afternoon sun. For a second, he won't be able to breathe. 

"Billy, please, will you come?" 

The uncertainty in Dom's voice will rip through Billy's chest like undercurrents. "Don't be daft, of course I'll come. I'll have to rearrange my schedule a bit, but I'll be there, I promise." 

"You're my best mate." 

"I know," Billy will say, because he can't imagine saying anything else, even though living two continents apart—with less and less time to visit, with more and more calls going to voicemail—has been patiently ungluing what used to be _Dom and Billy._ But he understands why Dom will want to hold on to the idea. He understands what it's like not to be able to let go. 

"I love you," Dom will say, and it will be real in every possible way there is to redefine the meaning of a word. 

"I love you too," Billy will answer before hanging up, and the words will stay on his tongue, inside his mouth, and they will taste real. They won't get washed off with the whiskey he will pour himself into a glass this time, wondering if it qualifies as drinking before breakfast. 

With dawn painting yellow glow around the edges of the night, he will fall asleep finally, and he will dream about hills that aren't Scottish, about a beach where the sand is warm in January, and about feeling like a visitor, a passing stranger, in a place that used to be home. 

On Wednesday Ali will be back from London, and when he wakes up next to her at night and whispers, "I love you" against her skin, it will be real, too, because they all have made their choices.  
  


(end)


End file.
